There is no other April to behold|
Regret for such acceptance may compare
The illness of thy nature soon unfold,
For what has told: mortality is fair.
So let thy palaces replace their place
In thy clandestine phase obliterate?
From cellar of devotion death might face;
Significance of yesterday is late.
But thro' the season's edge, our love will last
When summer grac'd the grass it shines again;
Thine arcane feelings felt (with so much trust)
Thus, memories have real meanings then.
Betwixt the current page that dimm'd by sign,
It fadeth 'gainst the time...within the line.
© 2017 amberdusk
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